Thin Ice
by lil-hot-pepper
Summary: Following the closing of the Grand Prix Final, Yuri finds himself in a defeating situation that not only distracts his rigorous practices, but also threatens to snap his fragile mentality. Victor, who can only watch helplessly as a flustered Yuri grows increasingly frustrated with each error, decides to take matters into his own hands to get to the ctor/Yuri smut
1. Chapter 1

**New ship, new work. I'm not going to lie, as soon as i finished Yuri! On Ice (the first time), i knew, in my heart of hearts, that my thirst would not be filled until i wrote some ridiculous fan fiction in its honor. *Ahem* dirty fan fiction. These two are just... so pure. It hurts. Be advised, in the later chapters, heavy smut will follow. Rated M for a reason, my loves. If you aren't into it, this is your personal warning from me. If you are, well... stay tuned. Good news is, I already have the chapters written. Bad news is, they are in need of heavy editing. Since I am a anxiety riddled control freak, I attempt my own editing. Please, bear with me.**

 **With that in mind, please enjoy the read. Over and out.**

 _*Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended._

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 **Yuri**

Obsessed. That would be the only way to describe it. This feeling was completely foreign at first, the beginning symptoms appearing as a harmless flutter in the heart and innocent burning in the cheeks.

I assumed it was the start of a cold.

Most days, I wish it would have been. Unfortunately, a week on bed rest and over the counter medicine wasn't going to fix me.

"Yuri, watch your-"

Too late. I'm flying, and falling all at once. This is an all too familiar scene, the ice rushing at my face as I brace for impact. My palms slap against the frozen slab that echoes around the empty rink, the dull thud of my body sounding a second later.

"Speed."

"Ugh." I grunt, rubbing my skull where it met the ice. Did I mention I hit my head? I can't remember. I am also having trouble counting the number of times this has happened today.

"That's enough for today, don't you think?" Victor calls from the edge of the rink, my mind immediately trying to pick out the disappointment in his tone. There is none.

"I almost had that last one." I mutter, resting my cheek against the slick surface. Truth is, Victor didn't have to be disappointed in me. _I_ was taking care of that for him.

He's right though. My skating has been flawed all day, my body as sore as if this was my first time on the ice. If I could just stop thinking and turn my mind off. Extract these attention consuming thoughts of colors. His colors, an awing display of aqua, ivory, silver and pinks in every hue. In comparison, there are my embarrassing reactions to said colors, mostly in reds, mostly on my face. I am the scarlet letter, except in _all_ the letters, scrawled across my cheeks, forehead and lips.

These are the things I think, no; obsess, about when I'm supposed to be focused on nailing my jumps.

I sigh.

"Yuri, Yuri. Why are you sighing?" Victor's voice is suddenly above me, his warm fingers sifting through my hair. I try to contain the shiver that follows, the likes of which have nothing to do with the cold.

Feeling brave, I reach for his hand and flip onto my back, electric tingles shooting up my fingers on contact. Victor is leaning over me, pearly hair falling forward and crystalline eyes peering into me. There is just the slightest divot between his brows, an expression I've noticed he wears in times of concentration or worry. It has and always will, charm me.

The tell-tale signs of fiery mortification begin to creep in and I recognize how it will destroy this moment. Acting quickly, I fumble our hands between us and interlace them, my heart immediately evaporating at his soft expression. I am mesmerized by the way his smooth lips tilt slightly at the corners, the ease of the gesture wonderment in itself to watch.

Reality hits and I am all too aware of my thundering heart and riotous stomach. I would rather break my own arm than eye contact at this moment, but heat floods my face and having him witness my one man humiliation show is unbearable. He, Victor, Russia's perfect, devastatingly beautiful, figure skating legend only look at guys like me from the highest podium. I am but a speck. An ant.

I jerk my hand out of his and turn my head, squeezing my eyes shut, but not before I see the flash of pain in his. My chest hallows. The connection is broken, the magic faded as if it were never there to begin with. Maybe I simply imagined it, like many of the other instances I mistook his kind heart and over excited reactions as something more.

Without Victor's eyes to lose myself in, the ice beneath me sinks into my bones. My shivers are a whole lot more than uncontrolled emotion now.

I pick myself up and stammer out an apology, avoiding any and all eye contact, pointedly staring at my beaten skates.

"Yuri, look at me." Victor's voice is soft, like velvet, and I almost cave. The heat in my face burns fiercely. Obstinately, I keep my chin glued to my chest.

"You are the most stubborn man I have ever encountered, which is not to be taken lightly, since I trained with Yurio daily." A small smile breaks the thin press of my lips. Yurio, of course, is probably the most difficult fifteen year old prodigy on the entire planet, but has a certain way of leaving fond impressions. Which is actually mystifying if I think about it?

I raise my head slightly and peek at him through my bangs, muttering "Coming from the most stubborn man I know, I don't take that too seriously."

Victor chuckles and my heart does a fluttery dance. These responses are getting ridiculous. He is my coach. My friend. My inspiration to become better.

 _My love_.

No. _God_. Stop. No, no, no, no. Yes but no. Yes I love him. As in, an unconditional type of love, the kind that stems from a deep friendship. Yeah. Just that. _Only_ that. No more, no less.

I'm lying to myself and badly at that.

Abruptly, his hand is cupping my cheek and his body is lightly pressed into mine, however, the heat he radiates into me from that sparse contact chases away the cold.

Predictably, I am now all awkward limbs and heavy breathing and wide eyes. Victor tilts my chin up and I am locked in the blue fire staring into me, his lips so close to mine I can _feel_ more then hear the words he speaks next.

"I can see your distraction, Yuri. I can see the cogs turning behind those brown eyes and if I wasn't certain of it before, your reactions now confirm it."

"I-I'll try to focus-" I'm stammering, trying to plead my case for whatever reason.

"I think you should talk to me about it. I am your coach after all. I should know what's weighing so heavily on your mind that it's affecting your skating." He knows. Right? His tone is knowing. As if he has me completely figured out and is now merely humoring me.

He can't know. Victor can't know. If he did, he would be on the first flight back to Russia. I try to let that sink in, maybe let it comfort me a bit. It does the opposite. Panic clenches my throat and my heart pounds in my ears.

"I d-don't think that's a good idea. It's nothing, c-completely, definitely nothing." Words are spewing from my mouth like a fountain, as fast as bullets, "Like, uh, what's for dinner tonight! Yeah, and I was, uh, thinking of heading to bed early! Yeah. Actually, I should start on that. You're right, as always Victor! I think that's enough for today."

I fake a laugh, loud and thin, and pat him on the shoulder. Ugh, a pat on the shoulder. _Really_. I'm cringing at myself. Victors face is so surprised it's near comical, his eyebrows raised so high they taper into his hairline.

I'm skating off the ice and practically running for the locker room before I even realize it, my movements mechanical and choppy. It takes exactly three minutes and four seconds to pull my skates off, shove my things in my bag and rush out of the room, passing a still stunned Victor standing at the door.

"I'll see you at home!" I call over my shoulder, waving without turning around.

"Yuri!?" He calls, both as a statement and a question, which I pretend not to hear as I push open the exit. The late evening still has the bite of a chill in the air, in which I'm grateful for. I take a deep breath, the fresh oxygen filling my lungs pleasantly, and begin jogging homeward.

I'm still thinking as my shoes slap the pavement. Worrying would be the more accurate word. My shit jumps, unyielding competition, exasperating insecurities and haunting thoughts of Victor all weigh down on my already thin psyche, the likes of which threatening to snap under the pressure.

Not to mention my sudden awareness of how stupidly, impossibly in love I am with Victor.

Lungs burning and glasses bouncing down my nose, somewhere my jogging turned into sprinting. I also notice the wet trails cooling my cheeks, my vision blurring as I think of how pathetic I must look at this very moment.

Only a hopeless boy, racing down the sidewalk, crying over an unrequited love.

I am an endless metaphor, a perfect example of selfish heartbreak.

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 **Angst-y, right? Hopefully so. That's what I was aiming for. The chapters will be written in a Yuri/Victor/Yuri POV format. Figured I would mix it up a bit.**

 **As always, leave me a review and tell me your thoughts. Thank you for reading.**

 **~Pepper**


	2. Splintered

**Second chapter out and edited whoop! Sorry it took so long, this chapter was** **heavily, heavily edited. Hopefully it came out decent, I worked pretty hard on it.**

 **Anyway, enjoy**

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 **(Vicktor POV)**

To say the walk home was odd would be an understatement. Truthfully, I don't even remember how I ended up in front of the bath house from the rink, everything in between a blank in my memory.

Yuri is normally there, walking alongside me, casually babbling away or sometimes excitedly predicting dinner for that night. I couldn't recall a time I have ever felt so… alone. People normally crowded around me, coaches, friends, teammates, fans. The sound of my singular footsteps echoes down the lonely street, dusk falling over this foreign country I have deigned a temporary home, a sobering experience to be sure.

Not to sound ungrateful. No. Japan has been good to me in so many ways, the very air light and unrestricted, allowing the opportunity for the deepest part of me to come out and flourish. Unlike the constant fear of persecution I pretend not to notice on the streets of my home…

As of late, the most favored reason for my staying has been distracted and distant, as cold as the ice he skates on. Really, falls on. Yuri has always been fidgety; his cheeks forever tinged rose, but for the past couple of weeks following the closing of the Grand Prix, his nervous habits have taken on a more serious note. The most alarming being Yuri's mysterious and sudden lack of acknowledging my existence, which is a problem on par with his flawed skating. All of our communication now centers at the rink, having little to no conversation outside of training hours. Anything physical will send him in a flurry of flinches away from me, mumbling some kind of lame excuse. Hell, I can't even get him to look at me.

It's killing me. When he reached up and laced our fingers together earlier, I was shocked, then immediately ecstatic, readying to pull him heroically into my arms. Disappointment crushed my trembling heart when he pulled away, his eyes once again sheltered, lips sealed.

Worry has never set well with me, never a feeling I've welcomed. Sure, I've experienced anticipation, on nights before a major competition or anytime my name is called up next for my set. I purposefully make it a point to mark everything I do with confidence, to be this otherworldly opponent to some, and unflinching idol to others. It's my outward persona, the one I wear as a safety jacket to the cameras and interviews, the same jacket I toss aside in the presence of Yuri.

Yuri was never in need of a disguise, his humbleness a shining trait that is as obvious as it is irresistible. The mere thought of his soft dark eyes behind his comically large glasses sends a pang of longing through my chest.

I find myself in the entryway, scanning the interior of his family's restaurant for that distinct head of wayward black hair and slumped shoulders. Once again worried, that is, until I catch a streak of terry cloth out of the corner of my eye, disappearing behind a quick snap of a door.

I consider myself a very patient person; after all, one would have to be to even consider coaching. However, the sharp sound that door made at its abrupt closing, sent my normally dormant temper soaring. Up to this point, I have complacently sat back, allowing Yuri to have his space. The idea that he has to childishly run room to room, specifically to avoid _me_ , was humiliating and wounded me deeply.

Thus began my march to Yuri's accursed door, resolved yet apprehensive. The threat of outright rejection loomed ever so heavily over my head.

I thrust the door open.

And stop breathing.

"V-Victor?!"

The sight I am greeted with distracts from my original intentions. A barely clothed Yuri stands wide eyed and slack jawed across the room, the bath robe pooled at his feet. I try to think back to the last time I saw Yuri unclothed, but can't get past the tight boxer briefs concealing a very interesting part of anatomy dominating my thoughts. While snatches the cloth off the floor and hastily covers himself, I remain staring, appreciating how his rigorous workouts nicely shaped his thighs and slimmed his frame, but thankfully left his torso smooth, with a touch of softness. It left me with the strongest desire to touch every inch of the exposed alabaster.

Damn, when did I get this perverted?

"Hello? Victor? What are you doing?"

Yuri's voice centers me back to Earth and I try to rein in my thoughts. Hot blood rushes through my veins and settles in my cheeks as I cough, just as Yuri tightens the sash to his robe, which, for some reason, manages to make the room warmer.

"We need to talk." I wince at how much my voice has roughened. If Yuri noticed, he doesn't show it, only turning away to stare out a darkened window.

It takes a minute before I hear a shape inhalation followed by his broken response "I think you should leave".

The turmoil of emotions suppressed from the last couple of weeks bubble up at once and, before I even notice, my feet have stomped across the room to stop a hairsbreadth away from Yuri. I grip his arm and spin him to face me, roughly catching his chin to force his eyes to mine, all the while my heart thundering. The tears streaming from their bronze depths wrenches my stomach and I wish for nothing more than to take his pain away, a complete contradiction to the barrage of frustrating bewilderment plaguing me.

"I don't understand, Yuri. Please, just tell me what is going on. I want to fix this, whatever I did. I want to fix _us_." I ask desperately.

Yuri is full on sobbing now, the stream streaking down his cheeks cutting into my heart, tear by tear, and I do the only thing that makes any sense to me in this moment.

I kiss him.

My world unravels.

This isn't the same type of bullshit kiss that I've recited to cheap magazine interviews, the kind with cliché descriptions like seeing cartoon hearts and hearing songbirds. No. It's _real_ , grounding. The kind of kiss that reminds me of who he is and who I am.

His lips are soft, but firm, against mine. Warm. _Familiar_. I am aware of him everywhere, hyper attuned to his slight gasp and the cool air he sucks in between our lips.

Then I know. As sure as I am about the feel of his hair In between my fingers and the taste of salt from his tears on my lips, is as sure as I am about the obvious fact that he belongs to me.

The funny thing about love is, you don't always know its happening to you. You hear about it in songs, read it in books. This described feeling of pure magic expressed in a single moment of discovery. That part is bullshit. In the back of my mind, I have known that I loved Yuri. I don't remember when the thought started. I do know that I didn't start loving him when our lips touched in some sort of metaphorical emotional explosion, no, I loved him ten minutes, an hour, hell, even three weeks ago before now.

Only now, everything is diffrent, but also the same.

My revelations are interrupted when Yuri pushes me away, almost yelling "What the Hell was that!?"

I pull back slightly, surprised "Oh, you're angry."

Now he is yelling, his face a collage of reds "Yes, Viktor, I am. Angry. What makes you think you had the right to do that? Did you honestly think I wanted to be kissed when I am upset?! God, you just-" he breaks off sputtering, now pacing the room. I take off my coat. He glares.

"You're cute when you're angry." I blurt. That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

"Are you kidding? You have no idea. None. You only think of yourself when you say shit like that. Being flirty and ridiculously nice and optimistic all the time. Living in this cotton candy dream world, not thinking of the consequences of your actions…"

He trails off and the room falls silent. Of course, I don't have anything to say because I have no idea what he is talking about.

"What? Nothing from the Great Viktor?" He patronizes. Which illicets my pissy response.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Yuri. Do you want me to mope and have tantrums out of the blue for no discernable reason like you have for the last three weeks?"

He swipes his glasses off and rubs his face, fingers running into his hair and pushing it back. He is wearing his pre competition face, the one right before he steps unto the ice for his final routine. A look that has me utterly smitten.

"No reason?" Yuri starts toward me, his steps methodical. My heart speeds up with every inch gained. "I haven't slept decently in three weeks. I can't land my jumps and my head is wreck. My stomach is constantly twisted and my chest hasn't stopped aching. While the reason hasn't been discernable to you, Viktor, its been crystal clear to me. And its your fault"

Yuri is nose to nose with me now and I can't seem to regulate my breathing correctly. My entire attention is riveted to him.

"You, Viktor, without the intention to do so, made me fall helplessly in love with you." I am melting, about to sweep this man into my arms and tumble onto the bed at my back, but he isn't done "With your charms and charisma and smile that you express to nearly everyone you encounter. I am a fool to look at you, looking at someone else, hoping that you save that smile for only me. My chest aches when you share your smile with cameras, when I selfishly wish that you only showed it to me."

Tears are sprouting in his eyes again, but I am ensnared in his gaze. I stand there helplessly as they spill over his lashes.

"I hate this person I have become. This pathetic boy hopelessly in love with a one sided romance. You have caught me in your trap that you didn't even know your were setting. I don't ever want to break out of it. It's all I think about. Your all I think about. I am being eaten alive."

Yuri, my Yuri, is sobbing now. Armed with this knowledge, his confession, I am resolved. I wear a stone mask as a thunder storm rages inside of me.

He has no idea what he has asked for.

But he will by the end of the night.

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 **Please review**

 **~Pepper**


	3. Cracked

**Merry Christmas! I'm in the editing mood tonight. I passed my classes and can finally enjoy the pleasure of Fanfiction-ing as a reward. This took a minute to come out, I know, I'm working on it. Meanwhile, read and enjoy!**

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 **(Yuri POV)**

The words leave my throat raw as I cough out the last of my confession. Embarrassed, but too exhausted to care, I stare hard into his eyes, noting his neutral expression with growing anxiety. Tears still wet my cheeks, I refuse to look away.

It's now or never. He could confirm my fears, walk out of this room and be on the next flight out to Russia, all within the next hour. Alternatively, and definitely foolishly, the impossible could happen, a scenario in which Viktor could miraculously reciprocate such outlandish desires. A long lived fantasy rears its head, where this gorgeous man kisses me passionately (instead of in some sort of misguided comfort) escorts us into his bed for a blessed night's rest, his arms secured around me and Macchan curled at our feet.

Either way, I will finally have my final answer. A way to move on instead of stuck in this purgatory of endless wanting and self-doubt.

He opens his mouth to answer. My insides are rioting. I am either going to puke or cave in within a matter of seconds. His expression remains unreadable.

He closes his mouth.

Dread begins to creep in, the regret instantaneous.

I stammer "Vik-ktor, listen-"

He places his finger to my lips, shushing me, and leans his forehead against mine. We are breathing the same air. His scent fills my head, making me dizzy, a mix of mint shampoo and the frigid remains of the rink. Shutting his eyes in a flurry of silver eyelashes, he murmurs under his breath. Not whispering. Speaking in a personal kind of way, like the room is filled with conversation and he is only speaking directly to me.

I close my eyes, listening.

"I assumed you understood. That was my mistake and I apologize for not being totally transparent." I brace myself for the tidal wave of rejection when I feel his hand cupping my cheek. I flip my eyes open again to find a pair as blue as a clear summer day staring into mine.

"I am not the only one here guilty of being captivated by charm. Yuri, the way you move, on and off the ice, makes me want to follow you everywhere you go, like some lost puppy. When you cry, I fight the urge to lick your tears away and fold you into me, to keep you safe. You have stolen me, Yuri Katsuki, and you don't even know it. I love it. I love you."

My vision blurs and head swirls the walls at an odd angle, signaling a reaction I am sure I need to be hospitalized for. I am panting, my heart rushing faster than skating the end of a three movement piece on the ice. That can't be healthy. I am elated and disbelieving all at once, wanting to scream in victory from the rooftop while also questioning if there is an ulterior motive. I can't deserve this. If it sounds too go to be true…

As anxiety and excitement war inside, the heat of his palm on my cheek sparks a reckless fire in me that burns away everything else.

In this mystery bag of emotions spilling in every direction, pushing my lips to his is the only thing that makes sense to me in the moment.

Viktor kisses me back, blessedly.

This is heaven. My brain shuts down and all I do is feel. His hand glides from my cheek to comb through my hair, until he is gripping the back of my head. His lips are moving on mine, or is mine on his? This feeling... is incredible. Maybe it's the feeling being wanted? Being loved? It's new but also not, casual but earthshattering. I know him, Viktor. My Viktor. Not the one from the poster, with the beaming smile and ethereal eyes. No, this is the Viktor that laughs softly over a pork cutlet bowl and walks languidly home from the rink as we make comfortable conversation.

I have him. Not possessively, more like a gift that he himself gave to me personally.

There is this pressure building in my chest and greedily, I want more. More of him, on me, in me, around me. As if he can hear my thoughts, Viktor's tongue swipes the seam of my lips, in which I gasp in response, granting him entrance. Daringly, he explores, testing my reactions, which are all the same. Breathless and uncontrolled. He tastes like spearmint gum, my whole body tingling as a result.

The kiss is deep and hot and we both can't seem to get enough air. Instinctively, my arms have wrapped themselves around his shoulders, causing the ridges of his body to mold to my softer one.

Soft, round, overweight. That's all it takes for my mind to restart and clear away the fog.

Que meltdown.

Breaking the kiss, my brain turns itself inside out explaining all of my faults. Viktor is only being nice again. Maybe it's been too long since he has had someone to kiss, to touch him, and I am only a convenient fill in.

"Yuri?"

I don't deserve him.

"Yuuuuuuri?"

I will only always be nothing.

"Look at me."

I am no one.

"Yuri!" He is shaking me and shouting by the time I come out of my head. "Talk to me. Communicate. If not, I can think of much more productive things our mouths can do."

Heat flames, well, everywhere and I mumble, eyes cast down "Why me? You could do so much better. Someone not as soft, more successful and attractive…"

I don't have to look up to know he is rolling his eyes in frustration, which twists my heart further, another annoyance to add to the list.

"I told you already." Viktor leans closer until his lips are at my ear, his warm breath sensing shivers down my spine " I guess I will just have to explain it better through action."

His lips are back on mine, but it's different this time, his mouth more demanding. I want to push him away but it feels like he trying to tell me something, and I desperately pay attention.

Viktor's hands are everywhere at once, running through my hair, skimming down my back and squeezing my hips. Senses overloaded, I don't know if I should shrink back and conceal my insecurities or give into his persistence.

He is tugging on the sash of my robe. I have a decision to make, to allow this and come what may, or end it before I have a chance to regret it. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm terrified, but overwhelmingly curious. All of this is unfamiliar territory, with obstacles I've built throughout the years and have never been willing to overcome. On the other hand, the freedom of letting go, not constantly overthinking and wondering, was a dizzying guilty pleasure that I've never dared to entertain. Until now.

I've always been envious of those who lacked impulse control.

The robe falls open and cool air hits my bare chest as I throw myself into this new challenge.

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 **This chapter, I really wanted to accent Yuri's internal struggle with his anxiety and self-worth. It's important to his character, I feel. Anyway, sorry for the late release. School and all. hope y'all enjoyed and please review!**

 **~Pepper**


	4. Ascended

**Attention, smut ahead. Two chapters in one day. Never been so proud of myself. Finally, the moment we have all been waiting for. I won't say much more, please enjoy!**

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(Viktor POV)

The robe falls to the ground, revealing a trembling Yuri bared to my view, clad in only a pair of tight fitting underwear. I scrub my hand down my face in an attempt to cover the flush in my face that slowly extends to my entire body, desire causing other pieces of anatomy to respond. Yuir's body was a mix of valleys and plains, the subtle ridges across his chest to the dips in his hips left my fingers itching to explore. The light under his skin illuminated the dim room and made me want to run my mouth across it, to devour and take it into me.

Yuri visibly shrinks under my stare, I'm sure misinterpreting my reaction, so I try a normal tone of reassurance, " I don't think I've met this bold Yuri before, though, I'm so very happy I am now"

Porcelain skin pinkens as he mumbles, staring at the ground "I wanted you to know what you are getting into exactly."

"Oh? Explain to me clearly what I'm getting into, since I clearly have no idea." I take a step closer.

"You know! This is me, all of me, I didn't want to disillusion you. Now you can see and understand that I am not right for you." He cries and this time I close the distance between us, grabbing his wrists and leveling my mouth at his ear.

"You, Yuri, in any form, in any place, is undoubtedly _right_ for me. Your body makes mine ache, your skin touched by moonlight makes mine yearn to touch it and your lips beg for mine to cover them. I find you irresistible, you silly boy." I bring my face to his, my hands slipping up his arms, one trailing across his chest to rest at his hip and the other holding his neck.

"Don't say weird stuff like that. It makes me blush." Yuri shivers and gasps as I pull him tight against my body, his angled just so as I bring my mouth down to his. The kiss is searing, reveling all of my intentions with every movement of my lips and brush of my tounge against his. He resists at first, but eventually gives into my will as he hesitantly relaxes with a soft moan and places his hands unsurely on my shoulders.

When my hearing is consumed with the sound of my blood rushing through my ears, I break the kiss, "You're adorable when you blush. The colors you turn remind me of flowers." My speech has grown choppy, but it's still enough to send another shade of red across his already inflamed face.

I secretly pat myself on the back.

"Sit Yuri, I want to treat you. Plus, I feel overdressed." I motion to the bed and he gives me a puzzled look as he slips away from me, doing as I instructed. It's easy to see his nerves, especially so after I rid myself of my shirt.

Temporarily halting popping open the buttons of my pants, I lean down and place butterfly kisses across his chin. His expression is bewildered, but entrusting, and I take it as a sign of progress.

"Leave it to me, Yuri. All you have to do is sit and focus on what I'm trying to tell you." Truthfully, the shaking of my stomach belies my confidence. I've never been with someone I've really cared about. Nor have I had so much on the line before.

Failure is a stranger to me.

With a lingering kiss, I go to my knees between his spread legs and place my lips to his chest where I inevitably meet his nipple. The feel of his heart hammering against his ribs calms my nerves, to a point in which my only desire is to pleasure him. I wrap my arms around his torso, so that my hands rest on his back, to anchor him to the spot.

My tongue snakes out to circle the smooth surface, until Yuri is squirming and the skin rises to meet me. I oblige, taking the puckered nub into my mouth and lightly sucking, a rewarding sound of Yuri's suppressed moan filling my head. By the time I move on to the next wanton nipple, he has his fingers gripping my hair and I glance up to catch his glazed expression. A thin chuckle escapes me.

"Is this okay?" I ask against his damp chest.

He nods, his mouth posed to respond but nothing coming out.

I interpret that as permission to continue my ministrations.

* * *

(Yuri POV)

A continuous tingle races up and down my spine as Viktor works mouth against my skin. I have to fight against every natural instinct to cover up and run away, but the battle is worth it.

In my daze, I forgot to pay attention as to where his mouth was headed, until I feel his lips kissing down my stomach, his silver head dipping lower and lower, his path unmistakable. I open my mouth to protest but am silenced at the feel of my waist band dipping and a very intimate part of me enveloped in the warmth of his hand I never even realized left my back.

I manage to choke out too late, "Viktor, Wait, I need a-"

Somehow, he managed to work free of the bindings on my underwear and instantly set his mouth upon me. The rush of sweet pleasure is too much and I fall back onto the bed and arch my back sharply, biting my arm to prevent the otherworldly sounds coming from my throat.

The room begins to spin as I ascend higher with each pass of his mouth. His tongue swirls and I threaten to fall, my entire being at the mercy of Viktor and his intentions, my moans no longer able to be contained.

"Viktor." His name feels like a prayer on my lips.

"Hmm?" He hums, the vibrations echoing through my body like crashing waves.

"Ah! V-Viktor… please." I don't even know what I'm begging for. For him to stop? To push me over the looming edge?

He seems to understand what I'm asking for even as I don't. He works my body to a sweating, panting mess. My brain is consumed with the highs and lows, until all there is a steep climb upward.

Knowing it will be my undoing and not giving a damn in the slightest, I peer down and take in the sight of Viktors scattered hair across my torso. His bangs tickle my abdomen, adding an entire new layer of eroticism to the mountain of pleasure I'm buried under.

"W-what are you doing t-to me?" I breathe, reaching a shaking hand to the silver strands. The moment my fingers brush the silken locks, he lifts his face, the image seared into my memory as I spiral out of control.

"Oh God, Viktor!" I yell, ears ringing and muscles locked. My eyes are squeezed shut and the only thought in my head was that lasting scene of Viktors mouth wrapped around me, cheeks hallow and eyes a blue fire piercing into mine. My release is hot and hard, an array of embarrassing noises escaping my throat.

As I float back down to reality, I dazedly recall two things. One, I realize I am gripping Viktors head and held him to me in my, um, final moments. Not allowing him the option to avoid the inevitable. Humiliation sets my skin aflame once more. Two, the act of what he was doing to me wasn't the conductor of my explosive finish, but more of what I read in his gaze. Tenderness with an edge fervor, an expression that has never been directed at me. It was a display that stopped my heart as my body ignited.

A look that he was giving me now…

* * *

 **Hmm, and much more to come! Poor choice of words, but i'm tired and who cares. I hope y'all liked this chapter, let me know in the reviews!**

 **~Pepper**


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